


Magazine Covers

by Five



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Five/pseuds/Five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschtein is a college student with a failing rock band. His sister Piper idolizes the popular boy band 3DMG and especially Marco Bodt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

Jean parked his car a block away, climbing out into the summer day. It was hot, meeting him immediately with thick, humid air. The sort of air you can almost taste, it’s so thick. When he opened to door to the bookstore, the air conditioning welcoming him into its sacred sanctuary. A small bell rang as the door opened.

“Hey, Hanji, mind if I hang up a couple of posters in the window?” He asked, holding up a pile of papers printed on a black and white printer at the public library.

“Why, are you guys finally playing somewhere?” Hanji asked, leaning forward over the desk. Jean scowled.

“No. But we want to be.”

“If you pretended to be interested in business first maybe I’d let you.” She offered. He strolled down the aisles of books, checking out  travel guides, A Traveller’s Guide to Trost by Mike Zacharias. He put it back with the other guides he didn’t need after a minute or two of pretending to be interested. He passed a row of brightly colored magazines aimed for tweens, plastered with photos of boy band members, Eren Jaeger and Marco Bodt and all the other 3DMG boys that drove his little sister Piper wild. Marco Bodt and his stupid smile, polluting the goddamn radio. It had been a good several minutes of milling around, he returned to the desk.

“Well, I couldn’t find what I was looking for.” He sighed melodramatically.

“That’s a real shame, Jean.” Hanji played along.

“Got tape?” He asked.

“You’re cleaning me out, Kirschtein.” She smiled, pulling the tape dispenser out from under the desk. Jean took a few strips and hung up the poster. It was a dark, grainy photo, taken by Ymir’s girlfriend, the closest thing to their manager, and their only employer yet. Beneath it, scrawled in sharpie in Connie’s loose hand was three lines of text.

 

Advancing Titans

We play any venue

Call Krista Lenz- 555-4679

 

“Thanks, Zoe.”

“It’s fine. The business I lose from you I gain from those magazines I stocked up on.”

“Well, bye.” He waved slightly.

“Bye Jean.” Hanji said.

Jean pushed the door open, hearing a chime as the door clicked behind him. He walked down the block and towards his car. Once he reached the dark green car, he opened the door to the driver’s side of his battered car and got in. He drove out of the heart of the city and turned down the narrow residential streets of the suburbs. Eventually, he turned onto the cul-de-sac that they lived on and parked in front of the house. That was the deal, he moves out, he has to come over for dinner every sunday until he graduates college. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and wrapped a finger around his key ring, pulling out a set of brass keys and picking out the key to his mother’s house. As he began to open the door, the doorknob began to turn. He released his key and watched the door swing open.

“Jean!” His mother threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Hi mom.” He said calmly, his voice slightly strained by the crushing hug. She released him quickly and smoothed out her clothes.

“Dinner’s almost ready, come sit in the kitchen. PIPER! JEAN’S HOME!” She shouted up at the stairs, cutting through the faint sounds of generic voices and basic chords.

“Coming.” Piper groaned. She stood up and filed down the stairs. She was a spindly ten year old girl with stick straight light brown hair and eyes of the same color. She was dressed in a pale blue t-shirt and short shorts, “Hi Jean.” She murmured.

“Hey.” He said with equal enthusiasm. He sat down in the kitchen around the table. Mrs. Kirschtein scurried through the room and eventually presented Jean with a plate of well-prepared food. It was tantalizing, a million times better than what Connie usually made, and in greater portions without Sasha around. Jean savored each bite, while his sister was ready to go nearly the second it hit the table.

“Mom, can I go now?” Piper asked.

“Piper, you only see your brother once a week. Please stay until he finishes eating.” She reasoned.

“Please, Jean doesn’t care, right Jean?” Piper begged, tugging on his sleeve.

“I really don’t.” He admitted flatly.

“Jean!”

“See! he doesn’t care. I’m leaving.” Piper sang, sauntering away and out of the room. She paraded upstairs and began to blast 3DMG on full volume in her bedroom.

“Close the damn door!” Jean yelled up the stairs.

“Language, Jean.” His mother reminded.

“Alright, fine just close the regular door, Piper!” He yelled. The reply was the slam of a door. And quiet. Thank god.

“Jean can you come in the living room with me? I need to ask you a favor.”

“Alright mom.” Jean settled on the couch. His mother sat across from him in a large armchair.

"You know Piper's birthday is next Saturday, right?"

Shit. "Ehm, Right."

"Well, 3DMG, that band she likes is coming into town on the Friday before and I bought her tickets. But Mrs. Wagner; you know, from down the street, she broke her ankle and I promised I'd help her make dinner that night so I need you to take her."

"You want me to sit through that crap?"

"Jean, please. I need your help."

"For three hours?" He asked furiously.

"Jean, it's for your sister."

"I'm an adult, mom. I don't need to listen to you. Hire Mina to babysit or something." Jean stood up and marched towards the door.

"Jean if you walk out that door I'm having the court make you live with me until I die."

His hand dropped off the doorknob.

"Alright. Alright, I'll take her."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is spending his days dreading this concert

Chapter 2

Jean walked into his room and flopped down on the bed. "Ughhhhhhhh..." He moaned, a long, melodramatic moan. It continued to lengthen. It was becoming comical. Sasha poked her head in the doorway.  
"Um, Jean?"  
"What?"  
"Um, are you okay?" She asked.  
"I'm fucking dandy." He groaned, his face still deep in his pillow. Sasha scurried off.  
"Connie, Jean's being weird again!" She cried.  
"Jean, are you being weird?" Connie called to him through the wall.  
"No." Jean murmured just loud enough to hear.  
"Well could you quit not being weird, you're freaking Sasha out."  
"What's wrong, anyways Jean?" Sasha asked.  
"I have to take my stupid sister to the stupid 3DMG concert on Friday."  
"That's too bad. Well, Reiner couldn't make it to practice Friday either, so no worries, right?" Sasha smiled.  
"Well, it's three hours of shitty vocals and fanatical tween girls. It's going to suck." Jean's phone buzzed. He turned over, pulling his face out of his pillow. His mother was requesting that he come a few hours early on Friday to watch Piper get the tickets. He unlocked his phone.  
"Hooray." He texted back, throwing his phone under his pillow.  
"Jean, lighten up." Sasha suggested.  
"Yeah, man. Enough gloom." Connie threw his arm around Sasha.  
"Go away and take your girlfriend with you."  
"Hey! Connie doesn't own me! You're being rude, Jean." Sasha protested as Jean slammed the door in her face.

Monday morning, Jean woke up at 9:15. He walked out into the cool morning air, that smelled of morning dew and eggs being cooked up at the diner across the street. Trost was never quiet, not even in the morning before the flood of tourists and before Jean's constantly talking roommates woke up. He tried to clear his mind, to calm down a bit and get his mind off that stupid boy band concert. He stopped in at the diner and ordered a plate of pancakes. One of the usual waitresses, the short one with the big amber eyes, brought it over with a smile and walked away to serve another customer. He smiled slightly out of social convention. Eventually, he settled into the day and began to accept that there were worse fates in life than his and began eating. The diner was alive with sound, the low chatter of people eating, the occasional sound of the cash register bell, the clinking of glass against the Formica tables and silverware. It was loud enough, but not difficult to make out the familiar sound of a simple guitar riff, and the harmonies of boyish voices, I know you're there girl/ I've seen you in my dreams/ I'm following your laughter through the street. It was unmistakable, the plastic voices and repetitive tune. Jean threw down his cup hard enough that it would have broken if it was glass. He groaned loud enough to turn heads in the noisy room. He sank down to the table, continuing to groan. The room grew quieter, turning to whispers, background for the dueling sounds of Jean's groaning and the tinny radio playing Dreams, dreams by 3DMG. His head sank to the table, though he didn't stop.  
"Um," His waitress lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "Sir?"  
"Yeah?" He moaned.  
"Um, I've been receiving some complaints...you need to quiet down, or I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She said timidly.  
"Am I any louder than that baby over there?" He asked.  
"Sir I'm addressing specific complaints, please don't be angry with me." She replied.  
"I'll be quiet, just...scram." He said. He quickly finished his food, payed and left. Stupid 3DMG. Stupid sweet, dumb voices. Just a few more days.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Piper go to the concert. summarizing is hard thanks.

"You guys should practice when I'm out. I need to pay rent some how." Jean said as he slung his brown leather jacket over his shoulder.  
"Jean, you don't pay rent." Connie said, from his spot on the couch beside Sasha.  
"Yeah." Sasha agreed.  
"You're a freeloader." Connie said.  
"Okay, okay I'm a freeloader. I have to go get quickly and forcefully deafened by an eleven year old."  
"Just one?" Sasha asked.  
"Trust me, I'll be dead once she sees her ticket."  
"You mean deaf?"  
"Hopefully." Jean resigned. He waved goodbye and drove down to the suburbs. When he arrived, Piper and his mother were seated around the kitchen table eating from a box of pizza.  
"Jean, come sit down for some early birthday celebration." His mother smiled knowingly. Jean shrugged and sat in one of the white wooden chairs. He glanced sidelong at his kid sister. His mother picked up a crisp white envelope. It was slightly transparent, just enough to show thin yellow stripes on each ticket.  
"Piper, Jean and I got you an early birthday present."  
"Jean and I? Do I have to pay for this?" Jean groaned.  
"No, no Jean. Just open it Piper. I have to go to the Wagner's now." Mrs. Kirschtein said amiably. As she walked out the door, Piper shrugged and tore open the paper. She slid out the tickets. There was a slight delay while she was reading the ticket. Jean took advantage of that and braced himself, covering his ears. Piper bolted out of her seat and shrieked happily. She waved the ticket in the air and shrieked and shrieked and shrieked. Jean began to wonder when her lungs had gotten so strong.  
"AAAHH OMG OMG OMG THIS IS SO AWESOME!!!! Thank you Jean!"  
"Stop screaming--please." Jean begged, clutching his head.  
"OMG THIS IS AMAZING NOW I CAN MEET MARCO BOTT AND MARRY HIM AND HAVE CHILDREN WITH HIM!!! OMG OMG OM-"  
"You know he's gay, right?" Jean rolled his eyes.  
"No, the one you think is gay is Armin." Piper pouted, beginning to cross her arms.  
"They're both gay." Jean explained.  
"How do you know?" She whined.  
"How could I not?"  
"You're mean!" Piper accused.  
"I'm being honest." Jean said. "Concert is in an hour and it's twenty minutes away, so go do...Piper stuff." Piper clambered upstairs and disappeared into her bedroom. Jean turned on the TV in the kitchen and finished the pizza. By 6:30, he heard Piper descending the stairs, her birdlike steps with more speed and energy than most days. Jean recognized this as his cue and grabbed his jacket. Piper stood at the staircase's landing and twirled, her long brown hair rippling around her like a flag. She had brushed it maybe a hundred times, prepared to shine for "her boys." She was dressed in denim shorts and a white fitted t-shirt with bold green lettering that said 3DMG, with a picture of the four boys leaning on each other in stock poses.  
"Let's go." Jean said. He unlocked the front door of the car, a re-upholstered, re-engined, certainly not repainted relic of a 90s Lincoln Town Car.  
"We're taking your car?” Piper groaned.  
“Entrez-vous, mademoiselle.” Jean teased, holding open the door to the passenger seat.  
“I’m 11 years old you idiot. I sit in the back. And I don’t speak french.” Piper informed, opening her own door and sliding in.  
“Neither do I.” He shrugged. The car ride was quiet. Quiet that Jean savored.  
“Can we put on the radio?” Piper leaned forward in her seat.  
“No.”

Jean parked in the parking lot of the Trost Arena. During basketball seasons, it hosted sports games, but during summer, they set up a stage. The air had cooled with the setting sun. Jean zipped up his jacket. There was a security checkpoint set up around the entry, airport style. Jean was up to his knees in restless tweens. He exhaled deeply. He could faintly hear Piper whispering under her breath omgomgomgomgomg. He rolled his eyes. When they reached the front of the line, Jean handed the tickets over. Piper followed him through the turnstiles, hopping ecstatically. After a few escalators and a flight of stairs, Jean seated himself between Piper and a bored white dad. The actual musicians were beginning a beat. Jean braced himself.  
“I LOVE YOU MARCO!” Piper screamed at the top of her lungs.  
“He can’t hear you, Pipes, he’s not here.” Jean said. As if just to contradict him, a platform rose from the center of the stage. It was surrounding in a cloud of smoke, which dissipated into the air as the boys began to sing. Piper was screaming as usual.  
“Cut it out!” Jean smiled.  
“I bet Marco’s so sweet.” Piper gleamed.  
“Eh, he’s all looks.” Jean murmured into his hand, “his voice is lame…” He added, at the risk of being torn to ribbons by a fifth grader. Piper couldn’t hear him over the sound of her dreams. “Ugh.”

Jean texted Connie through the first set. He watched the stage lights brush across the cheeks of the freckled boy. The blond was singing over a chorus of screaming girls. Jean could swear he was giving Jaeger the eyes. If he was right about Arlert... The tall one, Bertrand or whatever his name was stood slightly off to the side, leaning forward into his microphone and sweating his ass off. Eventually the first set ended and the band walked out back to rest.  
“If I sneak you backstage to meet Marco, can we please, please leave?” Jean pleaded.  
“M-meet him?” Piper stuttered, twirling a strand of hair.  
“Yeah, and if we can’t, we’ll stay.”  
“Okay!” Piper smiled, she stood up.  
“Follow me.” Jean said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean takes his little sister to meet her idol, Marco Bodt. Marco's interests, surprisingly, do not include marrying little girls.

Chapter 4

Jean held his sister by the wrist and wove through the crowd. He slid around and through the back. Before he brought up his plan he looked up the floor plan of the Trost Arena and eventually found the backstage area. His plan had originally been just to bolt in. He was now met with two large security guards. One was broad and blonde, the other with a shaved head and incredible muscles. He thought for a second before making eye contact with the one on the right.

"Reiner?"

"Jean?"

"You work here?" Jean asked.

"I have to make money somehow, you know." Reiner shrugged.

"Anyways, my sister is dying to meet Mr. Bodt, and if she does, I can leave." Jean said, "Please, Reiner."

"This is Piper?" Reiner asked, kneeling beside the child.

"Yep." Jean said, presenting her.

"Nice to finally meet you, Piper." Reiner smiled.

"Your eyebrows are weird." She pointed out.

Jean shoved her. "Don't take her too seriously, she says these things to everyone." He leaned down and whispered to her through gritted teeth, "Shut up or this won't happen."

"Well, I'll see what I can do." Reiner agreed and marched off into a room where Jean could see a short blonde girl applying generous makeup to Jaeger's face. He snickered. Soon Reiner emerged from the doorway. It was unclear behind his large frame if he was alone. After a few seconds, Jean managed to make out the figure of a tall freckled person. Piper started breathing heavily, really heavily.

 

"H-hi Marco." She said.

"Hello. You must be Piper." He said. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned down, making eye contact with Piper but his voice did not condescend.

"Omg, you know my name!"

"Of course I do." He smiled, quickly glancing at Reiner, then turning to Jean "but who are you?"

"I'm Jean. I'm Piper's brother." He said quickly without meeting his eyes. He looked over at Marco. Was he blushing?

"Nice to meet you."

"Hey Marco, can I take a picture with you? Please! Please! Please!"

"Sure. Will Jean take it?" He asked.

"Jean you better do what Marco says." She said, thinking nothing of his request.

Jean looked at his sister and the love of her life. Was he...coming on to him? If he was, Piper was too caught up to notice. Whatever. It's not like he was actually going out with a shitty smile from a boy band.

 

"Okay." Jean said. He took out his phone and gestured for them to get together. Marco put an arm around her shoulder and got very close the her, flashing his signature smile. She was grinning broadly, her eyes wide as saucers. This was the greatest day of her life. She took in the moment. His skin was warm and smelled like baby powder, his voice was full of sunlight. He was...perfect.

 

"Piper, put away your eyes a little you look like a murderer." Jean rolled his eyes. Marco covered his mouth with his hand, stifling a giggle. He couldn't laugh at his fans or his manager wouldn't give him the last of it. But they could be so silly.

"Okay." She said, her voice sounding as if it rested somewhere far off, like it lay on a cloud. Jean took six or so pictures.

"Well, it was so nice meeting you, but I have to go back to singing now." Marco said. Piper looked down and blinked. "One second. She ran into the dressing room, forcing Bertholdt to hide behind a rack of clothing. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from off a table as if she'd lived in the dressing room her whole life and scribbled furiously.

 

"Here. This is my phone number in case you ever want to call me." She smiled courageously, handing Marco the neatly folded sheet of paper.

 

"Oh." He said, laughing, his eyes sliding up towards Jean "Thanks."

 

"Come on, Piper, he's busy. Let's go." Jean insisted, meeting eyes with Marco.

"Okay..." She sighed.

"Bye Jean!" Marco smiled, sticking his hands in his pockets and returning to his dressing room. By the time he got on stage, he was still smiling.

 

Bye Jean, he repeated in his head, laced in cynicism, Jean twisted around the corner, a willful Piper in tow.

"Time to leave." Jean said.

"No, Jean! I want to stay!" Piper moaned.

"We made a deal. Maybe Marco will call you." He suggested, _If I thought he was gay before._

"Fine." She crossed her arms. "But you're buying me a poster." She said.

"Alright, fine." Jean submitted reluctantly. He stopped at the next merchandise vendor. "How much for a poster?" He gestured to the display of posters, then proceeded to dig out his wallet, pulling out a few singles.

"Twenty dollars." The man said.

Jean glared at Piper viciously.

"I need one Jean."

"You just met Marco Bodt and you _need_ a mass produced poster?"

"Yes Jean, I _neeeeed_ one!" Piper begged.

"Little girl, you want Armin, Marco, Eren, Bertholdt or the group shot?"

"Which is the cheapest?" Jean asked impatiently.

"They're all the same."

"Marco, please." Piper asked. Jean dealt out the money, grabbed a poster and marched towards the door.

 

The car ride began silently. The road was quiet enough. Piper stared wistfully at the photo of her and Marco in Jean's phone camera.

"He's totally gay, you know." Jean said, after 10 minutes of wistful sighing.

Piper stuck out her tongue at him. "No he isn't or he wouldn't have taken my phone number." She refuted.

"Whatever you say, Pipes." Jean allowed. When she turned on the radio, he didn't groan. He didn't lift a finger from the wheel.

"Hmph." She said triumphantly, "They _are_ good."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finds that the phone number Piper awarded Marco with was put to a rather different use than she intended.

Jean sat on top of the amplifier, sliding his fingers across the fretboard of the guitar, popping out a set of repetitive chords.

"Jean if you don't stop fucking around with that guitar and play my song I will snap it in half." Ymir hissed.

"I'm not fucking around." Jean insisted.

"Um...Jean?" Sasha said, toying with the wire on her microphone, "Are you playing boy band music?"

"No." Jean murmured.

"What are you playing then, Jean?" Reiner said, leaning forward on his drum.

"I'm just fucking around!" Jean exclaimed. Ymir cackled. "Haha!" She stood up triumphantly, one foot on the amp and fidgeted with one of the chrome pegs on her bass. 

"Agh, it's six o'clock, I have to go to my stupid mom's house." Jean said, taking a look at the clock on the oven.

"And you wasted the whole time fucking around." Ymir sighed angrily.

"Adios, freckles." Jean said, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him.

 

Jean knocked on the door, neatly painted and trim. The door was answered by a stout, smiling woman. 

“Jean!” She smiled, “Come on in, we were waiting for you for dinner.” Jean tilted his head upward, away from his mother. He rolled his eyes.  Every time.  She guided him into the kitchen as if he  hadn’t  lived there the last 19 years of his life. 

“PIPER! JEAN’S HERE!” She shouted. "Before I forget Jean, someone left you a message on the house phone. Have you been directing calls this way? Did something happen to your phone?"

Jean furrowed his eyebrows. "No."

Piper had at some point made her way into her seat. His mom pressed a couple of buttons and the message began playing.

"H-hi Jean...I hope I got the right number...haha...um..." That voice. Even on a crackling answering machine, he recognized it. It was like vanilla ice cream.

"No no no..." Jean whispered, then raising his voice a bit, "Piper go get my phone, I think I left it on the table by the door." 

"Why?"

"Go!" He shouted. She shrugged and slid out of the room.

"...I was wondering...I'm in Trost until Tuesday...if you might want hang out sometime?" He giggled a bit before adding, "oh, and, it's Marco by the way." He added, "um, I'll be reachable at 582- 555-4591 for the remainder of the week. Try to call me. Oh. Bye. I guess. Bye." His mother smiled. She knew her son was bi and was perfectly happen with him meeting a nice boy.

"Jean, your phone isn't there." Piper yelled.

"Ahaha, silly me, it's in my hand. Whoops. Ahahaha. Come back." He laughed uneasily.

"You're being real weird, Jeanbo."

"Don't call me that!" He protested. At the moment, things were normal. He opened a new contact on his phone, under the table and plugged in the number. He despised 3DMG. Why was he considering this? The question lingered through dinner, dessert, and the silent ride home. When he got to his room, he locked the door. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His hand shaking slightly in confliction, he pressed three numbers, three more than the final four, ending on "one". Slowly, he pressed call.  I can't believe I'm doing this.

 

It barely rang twice.

"Hey is this Jean?" The voice asked eagerly.

"Yeah is this Marco?" Jean asked, trying to seem as casual as possible.

"Yes. So...um. Well you're from Trost. Any recommendations?"

"Well, There's a diner near my apartment that's pretty cheap." Jean suggested.

"Is it good?" Marco asked.

"Sure, I guess its fine." Jean said.

"You know, I'm in a band...that's popular internationally."

"So what. I'm in a band. Everyone and their dog is in a band."

"Really?" Marco lit up. There was no good reason Marco Bodt should be excited to go out with someone in a band. And yet he was.

"Yeah." Jean shrugged.

"Well, you're missing the point. I've got plenty of money. We don't need it to be cheap."

"Okay, Café Trost. Tomorrow. Seven. Meet me there." Jean said.

"Bye, Jean."

"Bye." Marco smiled and hung up. Jean sat up straight and put his phone down. 

"I can't believe I'm going out with Marco Bodt...." He murmured. He groaned and slid down, sinking into his mattress. Weird weird weird.  T-minus 22 hours.

 

T-minus one hour. 

 

Jean got dressed in a white button down and dark jeans. He looked in the mirror and exhaled deeply. He ran a hand through his hair. Good. Fine. He sat down and tapped his foot so fast it vibrated. 

 

Off in a small, private hotel in the center of Trost, Marco was being prepped by his wardrobe team. Annie held up several different shirts, draping ties over his shoulders and muttering comments about his body that made him cross his arms over his chest in protection. Mina, his makeup artist, streaked heavy foundation over his face, drowning his freckles. Getting recognized was a big no. 

"Arms." Annie ordered stoically. Marco raised his arms and allowed her to slide the shirt on him and button it. It was the weirdest part of it all, being dressed by a team to go out. She had selected a gray button down with a thin, matching tie, and black jeans. Those he was allowed to put on himself, thank god. He completed the set by taking out his contacts and putting on a pair of glasses. Any good fan of 3DMG knew that Marco didn't wear glasses. Marco supposed he wasn't a good fan.

"Oh god..." He whispered.

 

T-minus ten minutes

Jean picked up his car keys.

"Bye Connie."

"Where are you going?" Connie asked.

"Out." Jean said too quickly.

"Where, smartass?"

"Café Trost." He said. Connie looked up from his xbox and laughed. Hard.

"Funny, Jean. Keep acting like that money exists and you're paying rent this month." Connie said. Jean smirked and left Connie in curiosity and drove towards the café.

 

Marco looked straightforward, not meeting his manager's steely eyes. He knew what it was going to have to be.

"Marco, I can't control where you go or with who. But if you get caught on a date with some guy, you won't have a fan base and you won't have a job once the tabloids are done with you. If you get recognized, he's your cousin, or your childhood friend." He explained.

"I know, Levi." He sighed, "Can I go now?"

"Be back by midnight, we need you to get sufficient sleep."  He said, "there's a car waiting for you out front.

 

The two cars arrived within the span of a few seconds. Jean got out, meeting eyes with the young man walking out of the sleek black car. He walked over to him.

“Shall we?” He asked. Marco nodded. Jean walked towards the front door, Marco following not far behind. 

“Table for two please.” He said to the man who stood in the doorway. 

“Do you have a reservation?” The man harped.

“No.” Jean answered routinely. 

“You should have made a reservation.” The man insisted. Jean leaned over and looked in the window to see three full tables and a room full of empty chairs.

“The place is half empty!” He exclaimed.

“You need a reservation.” The man repeated his position. Jean clutched his hair, ready to tear it out.

“Agh!” He groaned. Marco placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Let me handle this Jean.” He said. Jean looked at him and nodded hesitantly. 

“Excuse me, sir. Do you know who I am?” He said, channeling Jean’s impatience into something he’d only ever seen Eren do before. Pull the fame card to get something he wanted.

“Who might you be, Mr. Powerful?” The man smirked. Suddenly, something Levi had instilled in him flashed through his mind. Don’t get recognized in public. Anything can be compromising.

“I’m...Fred...Meyers.” He stammered out.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Meyers. Beat it.” The man said. Jean opened his mouth to protest. 

“Clearly with such bad service this place isn’t worth it. Come on Jean. Let’s go somewhere else.” Marco interjected calmly.

“I know a good pizza place within two blocks. We can walk.”

“It’ll be a good way to talk. Alright.” Marco agreed placidly. He smiled at Jean and grabbed his hand gently. “Lead the way.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco's date begins well, but takes a turn for the worse.

Chapter 6

“So, where to after Trost?” Jean asked, walking down the crowded sidewalk side by side with Marco.

“Stohess, then the tour is over and I’ll go back to Jinae for a while.” Marco said. He smiled faintly at the idea of going home.

“You’re from Jinae?” Jean raised an eyebrow. He rarely thought about where celebrities came from. For all he knew, they hatched from eggs. For all seriousness, he imagined they’d be from a big, fast, bright city like Stohess.

“Yeah. I’ve never even been to Trost. Eren and Armin and Bertholdt have, they were touring together a while before I joined.”

“Wow. Jinae...it’s small, right? By Ragako? I think my friend Connie used to live near there.”

“I think I’ve heard of Ragako. It’s about half an hour away.” Marco recalled.

“I just thought…”

“That I’d be from a big city? Like Stohess?” Marco suggested.

“Eh- yeah.” Jean said. He stopped in front of a small, dingy place with a green awning, “Here it is.” Jean gestured to the building. Marco looked at it, underwhelmed, but made no remark. It was Jean’s recommendation, so he kept to himself.

"I know how it looks, but it's really good." Jean said. He slid into a seat at a table for two. Marco nodded amiably and sat across from him.

“I haven’t had pizza in a while. My makeup artist says it’s bad for my skin and our nutritionist-trainer guy is kind of insane.” Marco said casually. Jean stared at him. Not an accidental stare but an obvious, “that’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard” stare.

“Uh...interesting.” Jean said. Weird. Weirdest date he’d been on so far.

“Let’s order.” Marco said, blushing beneath the layers of foundation. He was being weird. Jean nodded and ordered them a few slices of pizza each.

“Are you going to want a soda? I think they might be out of celebrity sparkling mineral water.” Jean teased.

Marco laughed, “Just water will be fine.” He smiled. Jean walked over to the cooler full of sodas and grabbed a can of pepsi and a tall water bottle. He returned to the table and presented Marco with his drink. The guy behind the counter called him to tell him his food was ready. Jean pulled out his wallet and began to stand up. Marco reached out a hand and stopped him. “Don’t worry about it, Jean.” He said. He stood up and slid across a twenty, returning with two metal plates of pizza.

“Thanks.” Jean said.

“No problem.” Marco smiled. Jean nodded.

“You should probably start eating. This is the best pizza in Trost and you’re not going to get this chance anytime soon.” Marco agreed and cut off a piece of his pizza, slowly, with a plastic fork.

“Are you from Mars?” Jean asked, no longer bearing it.

“Jean!” Marco said.

“Sorry.” He muttered. Marco turned and looked out the window. Upon seeing the street was mainly devoid of tween girls, he slid his hand across the table where it met Jean's. Jean's hand was cool and slender. Marco laced his fingers into Jean's. To Jean, it felt perfect. Yet in the back of his head he could hear Piper screaming. He blinked twice to rid himself of her. Perfect.

"Didn't you used to have freckles?" Jean asked. Marco sat up a bit straighter and rubbed his thumb down his cheek, showing lightly veiled freckles beneath the layer of makeup.

"Still do." He said.

"Why'd you cover them?" Jean asked.

"I'm kind of incognito." Marco laughed sheepishly.

"Oh."

"Levi says if I get caught in a date with you, I'll lose my career." Marco said, running his finger across the edge of the table, not meeting Jean's eyes.

"Oh, wow. You put a lot into this date." Jean said.

"Yeah. I might not get to go on another one until I retire."

"In that case, we better buy some dessert." Jean suggested.

"I haven't had ice cream in a while." Marco noted. Jean stood up and placed himself next to Marco.

"Sounds good. There's a nice place, Nanaba's. They've got good ice cream and shakes, I used to go with my mom and my sister a lot. It's a bit of a drive, but ice cream is an important part of life, my friend. I'll drive you." He offered.

"You're sweet." Marco said, gently kissing Jean on the cheek, "like ice cream."

Jean blushed slightly, "You ready to go?" Marco nodded. Jean opened the passenger's side of the car, making a sweeping motion to usher the celebrity into his car, "Your chariot awaits." Jean grinned.

Marco tentatively poked at the worn gray velour seat of the car.

"You might have the worst car I've ever seen." Marco observed, coolly.

"Oh, believe me I know. It's perfectly safe, though." Jean said, then adding in a quiet mutter, "or at least I think it is."

Marco shrugged and climbed into the car. It was a three minute drive, but with Trost traffic, it came to around fifteen. Jean learned that Marco had been touring for the last five months, and he was basically fused with his bandmates he spent so much time with them. His manager was harsh but meant well, his wardrobe girl was harsh but meant harsh, his life was fast and he could barely breathe without going through a team first. Marco learned that Jean was part of a struggling band and lived with his friends Sasha and Connie who seemed to eat a lot, and that his sister was a pest and that as long as he could afford it he was free. Jean parked the car and opened up the door.

"Shall we?" He held out a hand for Marco and laced their fingers together, entering the ice cream shop.

"Can you get us a table? I'm going to order. They have one flavor...it's well...you have to try it." Jean said.

"Okay." Marco said with a smile.

"One large pistachio almond, two spoons." Jean said, paying quickly. The girl behind the counter quickly prepped it and handed it to Jean. Jean walked over to the table where Marco was waiting patiently.

"It's pistachio almond. It sounds weird, but it's amazing."  Jean explained, sitting back in his chair.

"Actually...I'm allergic to almonds...but the gesture was really sweet Jean. Thanks." Marco smiled and leaned towards Jean a little, and slowly eased into a kiss. It was so passionate and sweet Jean hardly noticed the small chime as the door opened and closed.

A familiar voice came from the doorway. "J-Jean? Marco?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is caught in public with Jean by the worst person possible. Everything seems to be going wrong.

Chapter 7

Jean snapped his head towards the door, whacking into Marco in the process. Marco's glasses toppled to the ground and he kneeled over to pick them up, crawling on his knees, keeping his face behind his arms.

"Piper!" Jean yelped. He leaned down and handed Marco his glasses, "What are you...why are you here?"

"Why are you here? Why are you with Marco?" Her voice trembled.

"Please, quiet down." Marco said. He had put his glasses back on and was now looking down at his hands, wringing them together. Levi was right. Someone saw me. This is a nightmare, I'm done.

Piper looked as if she might cry. "Jean, how could you?"

"Piper, you're only ten years old and..."

"How can he be gay? I was supposed to..." She looked away from Marco and started to cry, "to marry him."

"Oh." Marco said.

"What's Ellie going to think when I tell her?" Piper choked.

"About that." Marco explained, "Y-you can't tell anyone...or I'll lose my career, and 3DMG would have to go away. You understand that, right?"

"I-I guess if I have to." Piper said. Marco was nervous to even look her in the eye, like he might burn alive. Nevertheless he wiped away her tears for her and gave a small smile.

"If you don't tell anyone, I'll send you five tickets to see us in Stohess with your friends." Marco offered on the spot. Piper lit up.

"Really?"

"Of course. If you don't tell anyone." Marco restated.

"Go for it Pipes. Please." Jean asked.

"I promise not to tell anyone, no matter what. For you, Marco." She gave him a hug. He sighed and patted her gently on the back. Jean's mom entered the room.

"I better leave Jean. Thanks for the evening. It was great to be myself for a while." He quickly pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and wrapped Jean in a hug. He slipped it into Jean's pocket and waved goodbye, making his way to the car he had somehow summoned.

"Why were you kissing him, Jean?" Piper asked.

"Because I like him."

"But...but he was supposed to be mine! How could you?" Piper choked.

"I'm not going to stop seeing him, Piper. You have to give up."

"I hate you!" Piper screamed, "You're so mean, you know I love him." Jean had a flashback to just a few months before. _He had come upstairs to see if Piper had his sweatshirt he had given her once and never gotten back. He had opened the door slowly. She was kneeling on her bed, her hands pressed on either side of a poster tacked up on her wall. It was a glossy magazine insert poster, with Marco's picture smiling in its center, his name in blue bubble letters in the top left corner. Piper was kissing the poster passionately. Jean's eyes widened, and he slowly backed away from the room in horror._

"Just so you know," A vicious smile crept onto Jean's lips, "The real Marco is a much better kisser than your poster."

"You're mean!"

"Goodbye, Piper. I'll see you next week in Stohess." Jean stormed out and drove home, flooring the gas in a fury. He returned to his apartment to his nerd roommates cheerfully watching Sharknado.

"Ooh, Jean, how did your mystery date go?" Sasha pried, muting Sharknado.

"I was watching that!" Connie interjected.

"Connie, we don't even like this movie. So, Jeeeeaaaannn?"

"It went well. Until the end." Jean said, sitting on the couch.

"Was she hot?" Connie asked, leaning forward. Sasha shot him a look.

" _She_ wasn't." He said

"He?" Sasha asked, "ooh, tell me about him."

"He's the love of my sister's life." Jean said bluntly.

"You're dating a ten year old boy? Jean, that's illeg-"

"No!" Jean groaned and leaned into the couch, "no, Sasha." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Connie looked puzzled, trying to make a guess.

"It's not like you're dating Marco Bodt or something." Connie joked.

"How'd you find out? Was it online? Did someone see us?"

"Whoa whoa whoa. I was kidding. Marco Bodt?" Connie asked. Jean nodded. "What a dreamboat." He laughed. Sasha laughed.

"You were playing 3DMG at that band practice then."

"Yes. I'm going to Stohess to see him on Friday. That's probably the last time I'll see him." Jean answered, "and I'm going to kill my sister, too."

"Yeah and every fifth to seventh grader in the country." Sasha giggled. Jean rolled his eyes and locked himself in his room. He did a google image search of Marco on his laptop. He searched how far Stohess was. He hoped Piper would cave soon. He sighed and took a walk down to Hanji's. It was cool out, getting rather late. The chime over the door greeted him. He smiled a small smile.

 

"Hey kid. Been awhile, anyone call from those posters?" Hanji asked.

"Nope." Jean shrugged.

"That's too bad. Can I interest you in something? I can turn off the radio if you want." She asked.

"No. No, leave it." He said. She furrowed her eyebrows and pushed up her glasses on her large nose.

"Whatever you say." She agreed.

"Mind if I look around?"

"This is a store, Jean." Hanji smiled. He nodded and strolled through the bookcases. The books bored him. He returned to the front desk, where they kept the magazines by the register. He picked up a flashy yellow copy of Unicorn Magazine, in big pink block letters, it said "Special Extended Interview with 3DMG!"

"I'd like to buy this." Jean said.

"Whatever floats your boat." Hanji rang him up and handed it over.

 

When he returned home, Jean stuck the magazine in his desk drawer. He plopped down on his bed. "This sucks. I had a fucking great time and now I'll never do it again." He stood up to get his phone when a piece of paper slid out of his back jeans pockets.

  
_Meet me in Stohess. Text me at 491-555-7892. We can do this again._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean goes on a road trip to meet Marco  
> author's note: Sorry I haven't updated in so long!

Chapter 8

"Connie, do you have a suitcase?" Jean asked, standing up from searching under his bed.

"No. Where are you going?" Connie asked.

"Stohess. Road trip." He said.

"Sweet, can I come?"

Jean paused and thought for a while. "If you pay for half the gas." He found a small laundry basket and began packing his stuff into it. He didn't wait for Connie's verdict. It was a six hour drive to Stohess.

"Okay. Sweet, Sasha and I can go to the food expo there. She's going to love me, Jean you're the best. I'm getting my suitcase packed."

"I thought you didn't have one!" Jean said, but Connie was gone. Jean finished packing his stuff in the laundry basket. He dropped a towel over it and duct taped it to create a lid. This should do, he thought. Jean met his roommates at his car and squished his things into the trunk.

Sasha ran over to the side of the car, a small orange suitcase in her arms. "Shotgun!" She called, climbing into the front seat. Jean shrugged and closed the trunk. He got into the front seat and adjusted the rearview window. He looked at it, where a picture of Marco, against the bright yellow background of a tween magazine smiled vividly at him. He smiled and tapped it lightly, beginning to drive. Sasha turned on the radio, turning the dial. 3DMG cut through the dull static.

"Keep it." Jean said.

"No. Jean, it's real crap, you said so yourself."

"No, It's different now." Jean argued.

"Ugh, Jean, just because you're dating Marco doesn't mean their music is any less shitty."

"I like it."

"You're turning into a twelve year old girl, Jean." Sasha groaned.

"Come on." Connie agreed, "this is shit."

"Fine." Jean grumbled, "put on whatever." Sasha changed the radio, to a station playing Jean's former favorite band, First Wall Down. Sasha sang along quietly. "Shut up." Jean said.

"Don't be a prick, Jean." Connie instructed.

"Fuck off." Jean said, keeping his eyes straight forward on the road. Jean kept driving for an hour or two. Connie took the next shift. Jean took a long, peaceful nap, his face pressed against the warm glass. His breath was calm and quiet.

"He's so peaceful when he's sleeping." Sasha noticed. She turned around and looked back at Jean, "Almost like he's got a heart." Connie laughed.

Jean dreamed of a night, with ice cream and kisses and moonlight. He dreamed of a laugh, of soft, warm skin, of the smell of baby powder and soft lips. He smiled as he slept. And it gave him peace. When he woke up, he quietly assumed his spot in the drivers seat. Sasha and Connie curled up in the back seat and took his place asleep. He turned on some loud music, the type he'd always liked, and coasted down the highway, the window opened, breeze streaming through his hair. His eyes would slide to his rearview mirror, and he'd feel alive.

It was an hour away from Stohess where the car finally died. It sputtered over to the side of the road, barely allowing Jean to pull over off the highway. It had lasted through the majority of Jean's born days, and the sounds the engine made were unholy. Jean got out of the car and kicked it.

"Fuck!" He screamed at it. He tried revving the engine, and checked everything he knew existed, but it was dead as a doornail. "Connie, come fix my car."

"I don't know how to fix a car."

"Then let's push it to a repair shop." He suggested.

"Leave it to die, Jean, it's ancient."

"No!"

"If you do, I'll lend you money for a rental to get us there."

"No, we can fix it." Jean said.

"Think Jean. Not only is this car a dinosaur, but you don't know shit about cars, and you know it." Connie said. Jean's head sank to the dashboard and he groaned.

"Can you text your damn boyfriend or something? He probably has a team of cars."

"Fine, I'll call him." Jean said, grabbing his phone from a cup holder in the dead car and walked away from it to make a call. He took the scrap of paper out of his shirt pocket and dialed carefully. 491-555-7892. "Marco?" Jean asked as someone picked up the phone.

"Who is this? Who gave you this number?" Said a stoic, definitely not Marco voice.

"Marco did. This is Jean. Jean Kirschtein, from Trost?"

"Stop calling this number, reporter." The man sighed gruffly.

"No, no. Please, tell Marco it's Jean. He'll know who I am."

"He's busy."

"Please?"

"Alright. I'll ask if he knows a Jean." The man said.

Jean heard the sound of the phone swishing around. In the background he heard a door open and close. It was muffled, but he was able to figure out what was going on. _A drumbeat stopped. A person stopped singing abruptly. The man who answered the phone spoke. "Marco!" He yelled. Shuffling. "Yeah?" Marco asked. "There's someone on the phone for you. He says his name is Jean. Do you know him?" "Jean?" Marco's voice lit up, filling with excitement. Jean blushed. "That sounds like an idiot's name." "Eren, shh! Let me talk to him." Marco said. "Take five!" Levi said._

Marco picked up the phone. "Jean?"

"Yeah?"

"Hi!" He smiled, "what's going on?"

"I was driving up to Stohess to surprise you and my car broke down." Jean grumbled.

"You were coming to see me?" Marco asked, maybe too excited.

"Yeah. Well my car broke down and I don't have the money to get it fixed." He explained, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets and holding the phone to his shoulder. He stared at the thin strip of woods beside the highway and focused on Marco's voice.

"That car is 100% dead, isn't it, Jean." Marco asked. "Um, yeah." "I can ask Levi to send a car for you. We have a few. Where are you?"

"Me, and my two friends are just outside of Ehrmich."

"Friends?"

"We're splitting gas money. They wanted to go to some food expo in Stohess."

"Okay. Stay where you are. I'll have a car there in an hour. Want to have dinner with us tonight?"

"Sure!" Jean grinned, a momentary lapse of his coolness as an all too eager dork. "See you soon, Jean." Marco hung up. Jean sauntered towards the car and took a seat on the hood of the car. In two hours, he'd be with Marco in Stohess. He put on his sunglasses and smiled, looking out at the open highway. This was good.


End file.
